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Published: June 30th 2006
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The story goes as follows:
Early one night, at 4:30am, a door across from the
Rising Cock Hostel opens and a backpack comes flying out, crashing to a halt square in the middle of the narrow street. There's a bit of a ruckus inside (no, I can't describe this ruckus), 30 seconds pass and an Aussie stumbles out, only to have the door slammed behind him moments later. Disheartened and dejected, the evicted backpacker slowly gathers his gear, takes one last look at the flat, and pleads to no one in particular, "I've GOTTA get out of this loopy town."
Welcome to LAGOS, Portugal.
Fittingly, my own whacky trek through Lagos begins with a chance encounter to end all chance encounters. On a never-ending bus ride from Sevilla, we get to the end of the line and are told to change buses in order to complete our journey. With only 4 passengers remaining, I start chatting with one and find out we're both heading to the
Rising Cock Hostel (Lagos' legendary hostel of choice), both going to the World Cup and have pretty much been on the same itinerary for the last couple of weeks. Little strange, but common when backpacking.
Mama and 10k
She's smiling cause I'm leaving. We're met at the bus station by a trio of girls loosely employed by The Cock, and are walked back to the hostel where we're checked in by Mama (the mother of the hostel) and immediately greeted with sangrias by Mario, the Prince of Poultry at The Cock. With the hostel booked for the night, I defer the last queen bed to my new buddy Jay and settle for some travellers' karma instead. My final resting place for the night? A Spongebob Squarepants rollaway. Fittingly, Jay is my roommate as well. Kinda strange.
Jay and I go eat across the street at Nah Nah Bah, which we'll discuss in more detail later (for now, just know that I'm convinced they put crack in their food). I soon find out Jay lives across the street from my favorite bar in NYC and is originally from Kansas City, which happens to be my buddy Loncar's hometown. I mention Loncar, and Jay's expression goes blank. As it turns out, not only does he KNOW my buddy, but his younger brother was BEST FRIENDS with him growing up. As a matter of fact, his younger brother ran into Loncar last year in Vegas
My Scooter photo
Moments before pulling a Super Dave. when we were in town for March Madness (I was on my deathbed in our Hard Rock suite, days away from being hospitalized with pneumonia in Breckenridge). Okay, THAT'S strange.
But in Lagos, it's just another loopy day.
What ensued from there can only be described as pure debauchery. I had booked five nights on Hostel World. I stayed EIGHT. It might've been nine actually. It's a little blurry. And I didn't even get to go on a "The Booze Cruise" (bad weather).
And now, without further ado, here is how I 10k'd in Lagos:
1) Woke up in cute, headlamp-clad (no pun intended) bunkmate's bed. Can't remember the exact details, but it involved liquor.
2) Savored Mama's soup THREE times during my stay, matching the number of times she asked me to move to the Camel Toe (the loosely-affiliated hostel intended for long-term partygoers/troublemakers).
3) Took a day trip on a scooter to "The End of the World", Sagres. Almost ended MY world, wrecking my scooter on the trip back trying to pop a U-ie at half-speed. In my defense, as my Dubrovnik hostel-mate Gav said last year, "I reckon Schumacher would have
10k, Brit and The Prince of Poultry
"Err... I'm opening a hostel soon too..?" struggled with that turn".
4) Indulged in Mario's family-recipe moonshine. That, or straight kerosene. Tough to tell.
5) Played ALOT of drinking games. Splash... Seven Bang... quite possibly the reason I got "The Sagres Cough".
6) Ate breakfast at Nah Nah Bah... SEVEN out of the EIGHT days (NOTE: The day I didn't eat there, I was too hungover to wake up in time. NOTE #2: They stop serving breakfast at 3pm).
7) Watched the whole 3rd season of Curb Your Enthusiasm.
8) Pretty sure I saw a naked guy jump into a female dorm at 4am and yell "Alright girls, WHO WANTS TO MAKE OUT?"
9) Met the second (and probably only other) person who a) watched
my reality show, b) recognized me from it, and c) did not know me prior to watching it.
10) Lost a FIFA '06 game and T-Shirt bet to Mario (i.e. Prince of Poultry), who I must now send a
10kJuan Pro Racing Team shirt to.
Note to self: Stop betting with people named Mario.
I know, I didn't go sea kayaking. Or surfing. Or do the cliff-dive. Note, all these activities take effort. My favorite t-shirt states, "I'm like a
Superhero, with no powers or motivation". If that's the case, Lagos is to 10kJuan as Krypton is to Superman, a breeding ground for drifting, relaxing and losing track of time. The way I see it, every day in Lagos should go something like this:
1) Wake up next to (
fill in the blank)
2) Eat breakfast/brunch at Nah Nah Bah
3) Go to beach
4) Snack
5) Drink/Dance/Be a Jackass/Make a friend
Yup, that about covers it.
The beaches are breathtaking, the nightlife is exhausting (until you get sick of the same 20 songs playing in all the bars) the hostel is a landmark, and the staff makes you feel at home, right down to Mama wondering when you're gonna move out. Meeting the cast of characters who call Lagos home for the summer and beyond, it's easy to see why it's so hard to leave, and why it's a must-stop on the backpacker trail.
Now if you'll excuse me, I've GOTTA get out of this loopy town.
10kJuan
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